The Colored Keys
by a.fanfare.for.elephants
Summary: Hayton Hancock is a straight-A student who slips through the cracks. No one bullies him, but no one pays attention to him either. He is just… there. His world is as colorful as his social life- non existent and dead. But when he hears the sound of a haunting melody, it ignites a spark within him and changes his world forever. Modern AU.
1. A Flash of Color

The bell rang, signalling the end of the day. Hayton Hancock sighed as he nonchalantly slipped his binder into his backpack. He was relieved that the day was over, that he was able to go home and get a vacation from his school for a couple of days.

_Actually, no._ He got out and rechecked his planner of assignments he had to do over the weekend. Inwardly, he groaned.

_Crap, I almost forgot I have to write a report about ancient ruins, and I have to use a library book as a reference._ He sighed and rubbed his temple with his fingertips. He didn't particularly want to spend another minute in his high school, but he figured he had no choice. His library in town was too far to walk to, and he didn't have a car yet.

_Might as well get this over with. _Hayton slung his crossbody backpack over his shoulder and left the already emptied classroom. No one was waiting for him, no one wanted to text him to make weekend plans. In essence, no one cared about him. Did Hayton mind? He might have, if it wasn't for the black and white filter that had shrouded his vision since the seventh grade. Before then, he had friends. Now… he had himself. And he figured he was better off for it.

He walked the hallways heading down to the main floor where the library was. He did his best to block out those around him, the sounds of debate teams and tutoring assignments and random gossip being whispered through the mouths of immature girls. He kept his head down, determined to make it to the library and find a book as quickly and painlessly to his intellect as he could.

Then he heard it. A little ting of a sound, barely audible but still there. Hayton stopped in his tracks and listened for it once more. _**tingtingting TINGTINGTINGtingTing **_

Hayton recognized that sound, but he wasn't sure why. It intrigued him greatly, and before he knew what he was doing, he was walking avidly the other direction. As he heard the sounds more clearly, his anticipation grew and soon enough he had flung open the door to which the assailing noise was ringing from.

Something strange happened then, something that had never happened before. He felt his chest tighten and his throat began to constrict. And as he stared at this guy sitting at the piano, Hayton could have sworn he saw a flash of color.

Looking around, he realized he had barged into the music room. A place he had never gone to except for his short stint in mandatory choir. It was strange. Hayton had heard live music a couple of times, but never anything like this. This was passion. This was tragedy. This sound ringing from the keys that were being manipulated by this boy's hands were weaving a story of great sorrow. They were echoing his story.

Hayton looked at this boy more closely. He didn't seem to notice Hayton's rude intrusion. Or maybe he noticed but was too engrossed in his work to care. He was wearing a red sweatshirt and blue jeans, and had long black hair that tossed and turned with his torso as he played. He radiated a sort of fire, the kind of fire that consumes you until you care for nothing else. Hayton looked at this boy and realized he saw himself. Or, rather, who he wished to be.

After what seemed like hours, the music stopped. The boy's hands grew still, and the ringing was no more. After an awkward silence, the boy turned around to stare at Hayton. It was as if he was just noticing him standing there. Hayton observed his bright green eyes that didn't fail to replicate his obvious surprise.

"Hi… sorry, I didn't know anyone else was in here. Can I help you with something?"


	2. A Newfound Fascination

"Can I help you with something?" The boy was now facing Hayton on his bench, tilting his head in expectation.

"Um.. no, I mean, I was just walking to the library and I heard… I mean… No." Hayton looked down at the floor, suddenly fascinated with his shoes. Talking wasn't usually this awkward for him.

The boy stood up and smiled, sticking his hand at Haytons face. Hayton wrinkled his nose and looked up in surprise, his jaw slacking a little. It wasn't that he was unfamiliar with the custom of handshakes. But receiving one was foreign to him.

"My name's Timmy." Reluctantly, Hayton accepted the gesture and shook his hand.

"Hayton." He let go of Timmy's hand and walked over to the piano, softly touching a key.

"So…. Are you always in here?"

Timmy shrugged. "Not really. My piano at home needs to be tuned, so I decided to practice in here for a couple of days until it can be fixed."

"Oh." Hayton continued to stroke the keys, letting his mind be transported into the past. His mind began to dance around memories of different days. Back to when things were happier, back before… well, before _that_ happened.

"Do you play?"

"Huh?" Hayton snapped out of his walk down memory lane to realize Timmy had resumed his spot on the bench and was now looking expectantly at him.

"I asked if you played. I've never seen you around, so…"

"No. No, I don't. My aunt did though, once... " _Why did I just tell a complete stranger that? _Hayton grimaced slightly and shrugged, quick to change the subject.

"So, what was it you were just playing?"

"Oh, that was a bit of Chopin." Timmy chuckled a little bit, his eyes beginning to gloss over with excitement. "He's one of my favorites. I was playing his op. 25 Number 11 called Winter Wind."

Hayton nodded, and looked around him anxiously. He didn't know what time it was, but he realized he needed to get to the library before it closed.

_Crap, I hope it's not too late!_

"I, uh, need to get to the library now…" Hayton began to back away from Timmy and the music room.

"I need a book for a research project… great playing, though, you sounded good! Really good. Nice to meet you, Tomm- er, Timmy. Umm, well, bye!" Awkwardly, he spun on his heel and twice as avidly as before, marched down the hallway from which he came from, determined to not look back.

"Hmmm let's see… what chapter am I looking for?" Hayton was now sitting in his room, twiddling his blue sweater's hoodstrings in his fingers, a habit of concentration he had built throughout the years. Hayton didn't mind studying, but like everything else, it bored him.

Hayton sat there, his eyes glazed over the table of contents. After what seemed like an eternity, he shook his head and frowned. _Who am I kidding? Ancient ruins? How stupid. _He decided to take a break for the night, and set his book back into his bag.

A soft purr was heard from the living room. Chuckling to himself, Hayton wandered to the kitchen to be met with the cutest thing he had ever seen. A little grey ball of fuzz was pawing at his empty bowl, as if convinced he could make his food magically appear. Hayton smiled sweetly at it. His father had bought a kitten for the house a while back when he decided Hayton spent too much time alone, as if it would prevent insanity from plaguing him. Hayton had persistently asked for a puppy when he was younger, but the apartment they lived in couldn't support one. He had to settle with this ball of fur. But, surprisingly, he had grown to like the little goober.

At this point, the little furball was viciously attacking the bowl, treating it like a field mouse. Hayton laughed out loud and rushed over, scooping up the kitten in his hand. He pawed at the air a couple of times, then stopped to nibble and lick on Hayton's finger.

"Ouch...fuzzie, that… that _hurts_!"

Hayton set him down and opened the cupboard to get his food. Using one hand to scoop Fuzzie's food into his bowl, he used the other to swat away the overly eager and fiesty kitten.

"There you go, sillypants. Enjoy!" Hayton stood up and shook his head at Fuzzie, who was now chomping at his food as if he'd never eaten before.

He then turned to the kitchen, opening the fridge. He looked around, trying to feast his eyes on anything that looked appetizing. But per usual, nothing did. And as he had done countless nights before, Hayton shut the fridge and left the kitchen to saunter aimlessly back in his room, his stomach empty and his mind plagued with negative thoughts.

On Monday, Hayton wandered through his day again, aimless and determined to not draw attention to himself. The day ended in the usual way, Hayton was eager to leave the school and go home to Fuzzie. Something about it didn't feel right to him, though. Hayton couldn't quite figure it out, but he felt like something was missing. He had double checked his assignments and checked off his to-do lists, twice. Everything was organized and in place, just the way it was supposed to be. As Hayton meandered through the hallway to go home, he couldn't quite figure it out. He scratched his head, and stared at the cover of his Ancient Ruins book he was about to return.

_I didn't forget any important facts about the ruins of Machu Piccu, did I?_ Hayton sighed. _If I get a B on my project because I forgot something, I swear to Thor… _

Hayton glanced up quickly, and saw a flash of a familiar door. He paused for a moment, all previous thoughts diminishing. Once again, his feet found themselves walking towards where it shouldn't be. He noticed the door was cracked open, and as peeped inside, all was quiet.

He let out a sigh he didn't realize he'd had, and slowly stepped inside. His eyes swept the room, appreciating all the little details. His gaze stopped at the very thing that had led him here. The piano was an old, yet majestic looking, black upright. It was slanted slightly, the back angled towards the benches where the choir sat during rehearsals each day. Hayton vaguely remembered those days, although not fondly. He slowly approached the bench, and tentatively sat, staring at it, as if it could whisper secrets to him.

According to his father, music was once a big part of his family's livelihood. Every family gathering, there would be singing and music, and a family recital once a year for fun. Hayton vaguely remembered this as a child, but all that ended when he was four. It was music that had brought his family together, and it was music that had drove it apart. What exactly had happened when he was four, he didn't know. All he knew was live music was forbidden in the house. Hayton wasn't allowed to learn any instruments, being told that he should be doing something better with his time.

Hayton never fully understood what was so bad about music, and from what he had heard the other day, it was anything but a waste of time. Tentatively, he lifted a finger and plunked it onto a key, hearing a loud _**ting!**_ and saw a flash of color race across his fingertips. Hiccup began grinning like a loon (maybe his dad was right to worry about him?) but he didn't mind, he had just seen color! Once again, he plunked a finger down and saw it again. This time, he let out a chuckle.

Hayton had been diagnosed with clinical depression three years ago, and since that time, he hadn't been able to see any color in his world. Everything was black and white, and imitated the dead. Apparently, this was normal, according to the doctor he had seen. He was told not to expect to see anything differently. But this, this supposed taboo instrument, was granting him a small glimpse of life again.

"I thought you said you didn't play." Hayton spun around, his smile faded and his cheeks burning crimson. His heart was racing as if he had just gotten caught stealing. Timmy was standing there, smirking at him, apparently amused by Hayton's newfound fascination.

"Ummm.. I don't! I was just… umm… looking for..something, and.." Hayton babbled while fumbling over the bench and backing away from it. Timmy's smirk changed into a good natured laugh.

"It's ok!" He said, putting his hands up. "I was just coming in here to practice again- my piano is getting tuned today." Timmy walked over, and placed his music on the stand and sat down on the bench. He glanced over his shoulder, his piercing green eyes meeting Hayton's.

"You don't know how to play, do you? How would you feel about learning?"

As Hayton nodded shyly and assumed the spot next to Timmy, his heart was feeling something it hadn't in three years: hope.


	3. Lonely Shadows

**Thanks so much guys for the reviews, faves and follows! Already have gotten a lot more than expected…**

**Sorry it took so long to update… I have been busy with work, as well as doing a lot of practicing of my own. Also, sorry this chapter is short. But I figured it's better to update a short chapter than none at all.**

**This is my first ever fanfiction story. Not quite sure where I am going with this, just basically making it up as I go. Any plot suggestions would be greatly appreciated!**

**Oh, and yes, Timmy is Toothless :-) Haven't decided if or when I will be introducing other characters from the movie.**

**Disclaimer: Obviously I do not own HTTYD.**

Hayton closed the door to his house, to be greeted by Fuzzie.

"Hey, fuzzball. Did you miss me?" He picked him up and gave him a squeeze before setting him back down again. Fuzzie meowed and purred, shedding some fur on Hayton's jeans.

Hayton didn't notice, he was too excited about his first lesson with Timmy.

He had told Hayton he would copy some of his favorite music from classic composers for Hayton to listen to, as well as come up with a learning plan. This excited Timmy greatly, because he was planning on going to music school to study pedagogy (teaching music) and performance.

But for now, he was to study the makeshift clef charts Timmy had made for him. He had quickly sketched out the two staffs, as well as sketch out a mini picture of the piano keys and labeled on the piano what the notes were.

Hayton was grateful for this, but didn't know how he was supposed to practice. _I guess I will have to use the music room after school…_

Hayton smiled, and spent the night memorizing the charts Timmy had made, his enthusiasm eventually lulling him to sleep.

The next day, Hayton woke up with a slight spring in his step. For a moment, he was confused as to why his body was more energetic than normal. Had his doctor told him to expect that? He looked over to his backpack and noticed a piece of paper was tossed on top. His eyes lit up in recognition. Of course he was excited! And he was practicing with Timmy that day after school as well.

He walked out of his room and into the kitchen, his dad was fumbling with the espresso machine.

"Good morning, dad. I didn't think you would still be here."

"Im leaving in a minute, son. Just wanted a cup of espresso to go… "

"Ok, dad." Hayton grabbed a piece of toast and began to tap his foot as he slipped it into the toaster.

"Ummm, Hayton, are you.. feeling ok?"

"Sure, dad, why do you ask?"

Hayton's dad grabbed a tumblr and began pouring his espresso into it.

"Um, it's just I don't think I have ever seen you eat breakfast… or look so peppy first thing in the morning. It's not bad, son… I like it." He gave an encouraging smile to Hayton.

"Well, duty calls. See you later, son."

"Bye, dad."

His dad thought, as his silhouette exited the front door and landed on the porch, how his son seemed to be rather… perky this morning. And that wasn't a word he ever thought he would use to describe his son. Shrugging, he smiled and got into his car, hoping his son's lifted spirits would remain when he got back.

The day dragged on even longer than usual for Hayton. He didn't have any classes with Timmy, and they had opposite lunch times, so he couldn't ask him what he had planned for the lesson that day. All he could do was listen half heartedly to his lessons, and tap his foot restlessly. Of course, no one noticed how different he was acting, since no one bothered to notice him at all. Which brought his thoughts back to Timmy. He almost hoped that they could become friends through all this….

Or not.

Hayton was nervous about the idea of friendship. Ever since his depression began, his ability to communicate and to open up to other people diminished. And so did his silhouette, until he became nothing but a shadow dancing lonely on the walls, invisible and hopelessly alone. How was it then that he could ever expect anyone to want to befriend him? Surely Timmy was using his apparent interest in music to help his teaching skills for his college resume. Any day now, he would be asking Hayton for a referral of some kind, a way to prove he had experience transforming hapless and unfortunately musicless individuals by infusing a fire of passion inside of them. Surely, that must be the reason. Hayton faltered for a minute and then decided he didn't mind either way. Even if Timmy was just using him, Hayton couldn't deny the fact that music was his only way of seeing light and color in his life, and he wasn't about to give that up.

Determined to see this through, he wasn't about to let his internal monologue of doubt keep him from approaching the now familiar door that afternoon. He heard the faint tune of a melody being played from inside. He knew Timmy was in there, waiting for him. He smiled because he understood that even if this didn't last, at least it was real for today. And for today, he could allow himself to fall a little more in love with the music he wasn't allowed to hear, and perhaps, with life itself.


	4. See You Tomorrow

Hayton took a deep breath, and with his heart pounding with anticipation and a pinch of fear, he opened the door. The door to the music room, and in turn, a crack in his guarded heart.

Timmy's music rang louder in his ears, and looking around, he saw the whole room burst with color. Although it lasted for a moment, Hayton couldn't contain a wide grin. Having heard the door open, Timmy, stopped his playing and turned around on his bench. Beside him was a folder, which he picked up with a smile and walked over to Hayton.

"Glad you could make it!" He said warmly.

"Don't we look happy today?" He teased. Hayton realized he still had his dopey grin plastered on his face. He blushed and glanced down at the now highly entertaining floor.

"I have come up with a couple of lesson plans for the next few weeks. Here." He gave Hayton a cd.

"Here is a recording of all the pieces you will be learning, as well as some of my favorite classical pieces. I find it more motivating and fun to learn when you can listen to an example of what you are learning." He smiled. "At least, it helped me a lot."

Hayton smiled gratefully, stuffing the cd in his bag. "Thank you."

"Yeah. So what do you say we get started?"

"Ok."

Hayton and Timmy had lessons every day after school for several weeks. Both were ecstatic with Hayton's progress. He had begun knowing nothing to now being able to read basic compositions, as well as discern between the major and minor scales and the inversions.

Unfortunately, Timmy's family was leaving for a week long vacation to Florida.

"Now remember, Hay. Just keep practicing every day until I get back."

"Don't worry, I will!" Timmy was walking towards the door as Hayton thought of something.

"Hey, Timmy. It's alright if I practice here after school, right? It's just… my dad doesn't know about this, and I don't exactly have a piano at home, soo…"

Timmy chuckled. "Yep! Feel free to come here after school like you would normally, it's fine! Not many people ever come in here anyways. They usually use the other music room on the third floor, for the orchestra."

Hayton's jaw dropped. "Wait, there's another music room? Why didn't I know about that?" _Where have I been the past year and a half if I didn't even know there was another music room?_

"It's ok, not many people know about it. It's normally a locked room during the day, so most people confuse it with an oversized janitor's closet or a Teachers Lounge. They try to keep it between orchestra members because one year, it became the it place for ditching class."

"People would ditch class? In the orchestra room?"

"You'd be surprised. There's a lot of room in there, so it was kind of easy to blend in. Anyways, got to go! See you in a week Hayton!"

"Yeah, ok. See ya!"

Hayton watched as Timmy left, then the silence engulfed him. Hayton got out his planner and began writing a mini practice schedule for himself. He couldn't wait for Timmy to get back so he could show him how much he had improved in the next week.

Filled with a newfound sense of confidence and determination, Hayton grabbed his bag and descended outside the music room. And as he shut the door behind him, he whispered:

_See you tomorrow, friend._


End file.
